Friday, October 16, 2015

October Poetry


What's down in the earth
comes forth in cold water,
in mist at night, in muttering 
volcanoes that ring oceans
moving strangely at times. 

And in autumn all the fields
witness forth; power there
where roots find it, rooms
delved silently and left
for the dark to have. 

Up and down all highways
weed flags proclaim,
"Great is earth our home!"
as we slip our hand
into winter's again. 

Great is earth our home. 
Great is the sky. 
And great are weeds in the fields. 
We celebrate earth and air 
as we sing in the wind. 

William Stafford

1 comment:

Rambling Woods said...

Perfect for the season